


Staff Drinks

by WoahFangirling



Series: Harry Potter One-Shots [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Platonic Relationships, Staff drinks, War Stories, Which I couldn't find, inspired by a tumblr post, oh well, the Three Broomsticks, very drunk professors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-30
Updated: 2016-08-30
Packaged: 2018-08-11 21:55:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7909015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WoahFangirling/pseuds/WoahFangirling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neville Longbottom, new Herbology Professor at Hogwarts, gets dragged along to Hogsmeade one evening to have drinks with the rest of the Staff Members. One-shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Staff Drinks

Neville sighed deeply as he watched the second-year Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs filing out of the greenhouse and he began put away the Mandrakes and prepare for the fifth-year Gryffindor/Ravenclaw class that was going to enter soon, when he turned around and saw the Headmistress standing in the entrance-way to the Greenhouse. He smiled at her. "Good morning, Professor McGonagall. What brings you here?"

She looked at him. "Neville, please. Call me Minerva. We've been colleagues for months."

"That's okay, Headmistress. I'd prefer to call you Professor McGonagall, if you don't mind." 

She sighed and pressed her lips together. "Alright. Neville, tomorrow evening, all members of the staff are invited to go to the Three Broomsticks for drinks. I encourage you to join us - you are one of us, now, you know."

He was silent as he placed the potted Mandrake on the shelf. "I - I don't know."

"You have reservations?"

He sighed gently. "No. Yes. I don't know."

"Well, you think about it, Neville, and let me know. But I do hope that you decide to join us. Everyone here adores you."

"Thanks, Headmistress." She stood for a moment and watched him before turning on her heel and proceeding back into the castle, her emerald green robes flowing behind her. 

 

 

 

"I have no idea why I decided to come to this."

Neville rubbed his eyes and followed his fellow Professors into the Three Broomsticks.

Inside, the aura was welcoming, like it always is. Madam Rosmerta approached them with a smile and led them to the private room they had reserved for tonight, and took their drink orders. Neville ended up sitting between Professors McGonagall and Sinistra. A few moments later, Madam Rosmerta returned with their drinks - for Neville, this meant a firewhiskey. Some had red wines, a few had butterbeer, and Professor Flitwick also ordered a firewhiskey. 

"So, Neville," said Septima Vector, raising a glass of wine to her lips. "How are your first classes going?"

He took a swig of firewhiskey before answering - he knew he was going to need it if he was going to make it through this night with his mind intact. Although he highly respected every person in the room with him, he felt awkward, being ten years younger than Professor Sinistra, who was the next youngest. He had been taught by each of these people, he had sat in a classroom while each of these people lectured him. 

"Oh, you know," he said casually. "Fine, I suppose. Nothing extraordinary, but I do quite enjoy it."

"The kids seem to like you quite a bit, too," said Professor Sinistra as she sipped her own wine, giggling to herself. Neville furrowed his eyebrows in her direction.

"Is that supposed to be funny?"

Everyone seemed to smile a bit. "Don't tell me you haven't noticed!" 

"Noticed what?" 

"Quite naive, you are," said Professor Vector.

"Septima, Aurora," Professor McGonagall scolded slightly, but she was laughing too.

"All of the female students - hell, some of the male students! - adore you. I can't tell you how many papers I've gotten in that has a little heart with the words 'Professor Longbottom' written in them!" 

"Honestly, the star charts have more hearts drawn on them then stars!" 

"All good in here?" Madam Rosmerta popped her head in the doorway to the private room, and Neville glanced up at her.

"Oh, Rosmerta, could you please fetch me the strongest drink that you have in stock? Apparently, I'm going to need it."

Everyone laughed before she said "Coming right up. Anyone else? Minerva, need a refill?"

"That'd be lovely, thank you." She nodded.

"That young Gryffindor third-year, Hall, was talking to her friend Vincent in the corridor the other day about you, Longbottom. Telling her about how she thinks you're - oh, what's the term she used? - 'hot as fire.'"

Hearing that come out of Professor McGonagall's mouth caused Neville's face to turn bright red in embarrassment and the room to erupt in laughter. "Oh, where is that drink when you need it?"

"They coined a new term, you know," said Professor Vector. "Not the students, your friends. Granger, Lovegood, Potter, the Weasleys. When someone goes through puberty and comes out of the other side - 'for the better', they called it 'Neville Longbottom-ing.' Rita Skeeter invented the term, but your friends use it a lot."

"How drunk are you, Septima?" said Professor Flitwick, laughing. 

"That's besides the point."

"Rosmerta! Where's that drink?" Neville chugged the rest of his very large firewhiskey in one gulp. 

"So what students do you expect are gonna 'Neville Longbottom'?" Professor Sinistra slurred a bit, looking over at Professor McGonagall, who giggled (yes, giggled, Neville was shocked, too.)

"Mm. I don't know. What do you think?"

"Oh, I've got a couple students in mind - "

"Here are those drinks, Professors," said Rosmerta, setting down the wine in front of McGonagall and the rum in front of Neville, who immediately picked up the glass, drank it in one swig, and ordered another. "This has already been quite a rough night, Rosmerta, I don't need your judgement."

Everyone laughed again, and Neville, feeling the alcohol, joined them. Rosmerta left the room, laughing with the Professors, and grabbed another drink.

The group broke off into many different conversations. Vector, Sinistra, and Flitwick were all talking to quietly, occasionally laughing. Hagrid was having a seemingly-pleasant conversation with Professor Slughorn, and that left Neville and the Headmistress in silence. 

"So, Neville," she took another sip of the wine, a bit of red staining her top lip. "Enjoying yourself?"

"Oh, yes," he said sarcastically. "Yes. I learned a lot tonight - particularly, what 'Neville Longbottom'ed' means. Great times."

She nudged him playfully with her elbow. "C'mon, Longbottom, they're just messing with you. You truly are one of us, now, and they're you treating like it. They like you."

He sighed deeply, sipping his rum. "Yeah. Yeah, I suppose."

"Neville, we've all been through hell this last year. It's okay to let loose and have fun. You deserve it. We all do."

"Yeah. I still have nightmares about the Carrows," he admitted. The words had flown out of his mouth without him being able to catch them, but surprisingly, she nodded. "I do too. I still have nightmares about them using the Cruciatus Curse on you all."

"I still have nightmares about them using it on the younger students," he said. "It really isn't that bad when it's happening to you if you put it side-by-side with it happening to someone else."

She set her drink down on the table and swallowed the wine in her mouth. "That reason is precisely why I chose you for this job, Neville. You put others before yourself in every situation. You would protect your students with your life. It's a trait that all teachers have to have during war, and even though it's over, it's something that I will look for in Professors to my dying breath. I'm glad you've joined us this year, Longbottom, and I hope you'll stick around for a while."

The two continued to talk for the rest of the night, sharing stories. The Headmistress even told him about her days as a Quidditch player, and the injury that put her out of the sport (apparently, foul play from a Slytherin, leaving her with a concussion, broken ribs, and a life-long wish to see Slytherin crushed on the Quidditch Pitch.) At the end of the night, when they bid each other goodbye, Neville called her Minerva.

A day didn't pass in the future where he called her "Professor McGonagall."


End file.
